Masquerade
by dreamsoflove311
Summary: In quite literally the blink of an eye, his mask was back in place.  Lisbon watched the sudden change and rearranged her own features.


**A/N: Yes, yes, I know..._another _post finale fic. What can I say? When you gotta write, you gotta write. Assume this story takes place shortly after the finale ended.**

**Also, I don't own The Mentalist...just in case you were wondering. :)**

He watched as Cho preceded her into the interrogation room, his eyes followed her to the chair across from his. He took in the bulk of the bandage at her shoulder, obscured by her shirt, and the sling that immobilized her injured arm.

She watched him too. Took in his cool eyes, his stillness, his unaffected demeanor, his blank features. She sat down, Cho leaned against the door. They were still for suspended seconds, regarding each other, then she spoke his name.

"Jane." An aching whisper, low and intense.

At the sound of it, his carefully constructed mask of indifference cracked. Just for one moment it shattered and then fell away completely. For one moment his face blazed with pure and honest emotion-he burned with it-it was written in his every feature. It was impossible to comprehend what it all meant, this multitude of feeling. Such a rare thing coming from him, almost unprecedented. Then, in quite literally the blink of an eye, his mask was back in place. Lisbon watched the sudden change and rearranged her own features, it took her only seconds longer than him to secure her facade of blank detachment. But her eyes, she couldn't temper the emotion in them. Jane shifted in his chair.

"Don't look at me that way, Lisbon." Cool, even tones. Smooth and light, like discussing the weather. "You have always known my intentions, I've never made any pretense. I told you what I planned to do when I found Red John."

"And I told you what I would do." Her voice rivaled his for calm.

"You said you would arrest me. Well, it looks like we've both kept our promises." She leaned forward, good arm resting on the table.

"What if that wasn't really Red John?" Honest question.

"It was a risk I had to take. I couldn't just let him walk away."

She had heard the reports and seen the security footage, still, she wanted him to tell her in his own words.

"How did you know?"

"When you called the number on O'Laughlin's phone..." His gaze darkened, remembering. "He was sitting one table over, reading the paper. He said, 'You win some, you lose some.'" He paused to draw in a breath and Lisbon's lips shaped the words that had been spoken in her ear in that strange effeminate voice. _You win some, you lose some._

"I asked him who was on the phone, asked who he was. He said I knew. He said he had many names. He said some call him-" The mask wavered. For a fraction of a second it flickered, then held.

"Red John." Lisbon's voice was hard and cold.

"Yes." His eyes were ice blue as they met hers. "He said he was done with it-the killing-tired of it. He said he was going to do other things...help the children." A flash of something in his eyes.

_Rage, _Lisbon thought.

"He said he was going to leave it all behind, disappear. He could do it-would have done it. We would never have found him if he didn't want to be found." His eyes trapped hers. "How could I let him disappear?" A deep breath. "He told me to let it go-to forget about it. Told me to _move on._" The mask evaporated. Fury. Hate. Fire and ice at war in his eyes, consuming. "To forget about-" He shook his head, blinking, clearing away the emotions, replacing the mask. "I said I'd let it go when he was dead."

Lisbon's fist flexed convulsively on the tabletop. She had asked for his confession and she was getting it. Every painful detail.

"He was going to leave, going to vanish. I wasn't sure...I wanted to be sure. He-he told me about-" His voice cracked.

Spindles of ice tricked down Lisbon's spine as she realized what was coming. When he spoke again his voice was a rough whisper, grating. "About that night. When they died-when he killed them...how they _smelled_-" His eyes were dark now, dark and anguished. She ached for him, her eyes burned. She refused to cry.

His eyes burned too. "I told him to wait. I looked into his eyes..." He met her eyes. "I shot him. Three times. I watched him die. Then I waited for the police to come." He was calm again, cool. It made her ache even worse. "I did what I said I would do. I killed the man who murdered my family." No regret in his voice, no care that he had taken a life. He looked so unaffected, it made her angry.

"And now that you've done it, how do you feel? Are you relieved? Freed? Happy? Are you happy now, Jane?" Her voice broke on his name.

His mask slipped again-torment. Complete and utter torment.

Oh, god. She ached for him. He heart, her soul, her very skin throbbed for this tortured man. He sat in front of her, more exposed that he had ever been.

He couldn't meet her eyes.

"I feel-I feel-I don't know what I feel." He forced his eyes to hers. "I'm not sorry he's dead." She flinched.

"You killed a man, Jane."

"I've killed a man before. You weren't too upset about it last time." His mask slid back into place as he lashed out, intentionally inflicting pain with his words. Hurt and anger flushed her cheeks red.

"You killed him to save my life! That was different!"

"_How? _" Her eyes widened, he had never taken quite this tone with her before. Almost yelling, half pleading. She could see fissures-his mask was splintering again. "How is this any different? If I had let him leave, he would have killed again! I killed him to stop him from taking more lives!"

"You killed him in revenge for his sins against you!" She was on her feet, green eyes flashing. He tilted his golden head up to look up at her.

"His death served a dual purpose then. Red John deserved to die, Lisbon. For all the lives he took, for the lives of my family. He deserved to be held accountable, he deserved to be brought to justice."

"That wasn't justice, it was vengeance!"

He flipped his wrist in the air as if to say, 'same difference, no big deal.' Lisbon's fists clenched and pain lanced from her injured shoulder.

"You think she would have wanted this, your wife? You think she would have wanted you to become a killer? To commit murder in her name? In the name of your daughter?"

Agony. The mask was gone again and there was only agony radiating from his every pore.

"I made them a promise." It was a choked whisper. "I have honored it. Whether it was what they would have wanted...I will never know." He fought to replace the mask-to shield himself from her gaze-but he was so tired. He knew she could see though his feeble barriers, see _him_. The real him. The one he kept buried so deeply, the one she'd only ever seen in the most fleeting of glimpses before this moment. The dark, haunted, broken man that he was.

She saw it. Saw him.

She was on the verge of breaking down. She would not cry for him, not while he could see her...she had to get out of this room, she had heard enough. She turned to Cho,

"Can you finish up here?" Cho nodded. Jane's eyes flicked up to them, vaguely surprised.

"Sure thing, Boss."

"Thank you." She turned to leave, shoulders hunched, the gunshot wound in her shoulder twigging with pain.

"Lisbon?" She turned, Jane wasn't looking at her, his eyes were on his hands. Hers fixed there too, on the metal of the cuffs that encased his wrists.

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

Her eyebrows lifted almost off her forehead, she shifted her eyes to his face, it was still averted. Her mouth worked to find words for a moment, where in the world was this coming from?

"Jane, wha-"

"Your shoulder." His head rose. No mask. He radiated sincerity. She swallowed a gasp.

"You're in pain." He turned his eyes to Cho, mask still absent. "She came here straight from the hospital, didn't she?" A sigh. "You should have sent her home." A slightly strangled noise of surprise and anger came from Lisbon's direction, and Jane shrugged, eyes still on Cho. "Make sure she takes her pain medication. You know how she pretends she doesn't need it." Cho blinked at him for a moment, then nodded. Lisbon was watching Jane with wide eyes. He looked at her again, unmasked, for one more moment...then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. His hands were folded serenely on his lap, his mask firmly back in place. He looked for all the world like he was lounging on the beach.

Lisbon wasn't sure if she was about to laugh or cry at the absurdity of the whole situation...maybe both. She took a deep breath, let her eyes scan his form one last time, and swept from the room, fixing her own mask firmly in place. She covered her roiling emotions and headed for LaRoche's office. On her way, she stopped at her own to take her pain meds.

**A/N: Reviews would be lovely!**


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